… pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat …

Some days, the grievous trek to Mining Town 428 was unbearable, even in the weightlessness of space. It made Firen Blazerunner wonder if he’d made a mistake purchasing an asteroid so far from town. He’d saved scales incessantly to acquire the deeply-discounted “floater”—a baby asteroid, about fifty wings across, tethered precariously by firesteel chain to the darkest recesses of its gargantuan mother rock, Narmoroth.

Unfortunately, its remote location resulted in an arduous commute. When his impressive dragon haunches ached before work—where he’d yet to endure eight hours of intense physical exertion—he wondered if it was worth it.

I’ve got to get more sleep. I’m still recovering from yesterday.

Like any other day on the outer belt, Firen set a steady pace on all fours across the hulking chain that was the sole egress from his home. He even left an entire hour early to ensure he arrived at the ice mine on time.

The flicking of his talons against the chain rang out with a pitter-patter as he teased his body along in a floating gait. There was a certain art to the movement. He didn’t dare stray far from the chain lest an errant gust of ether blow them into the void of space. Yet he needed some distance in order to drift unerringly forward, which was the most efficient method of travel.

At least, it was for a dragon that couldn’t fly.

His bleary-eyed daughter, Tarly, clung to his back, enjoying the free ride to school. She was only ten years old, and the formidable distance to town would’ve taken her twice as long. Besides that, there was still talk of a monster threat in their sector, and Firen would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

He was a simple, ordinary dragon. He didn’t have soaring dreams for his future. He didn’t have a sparkling personality that was the life and soul of a party. The one thing he did have—the one thing he treasured, above all else—was his daughter, Tarly. His few precious goals were only because of his love for her. All else came second.

So when he was forced to carry her to school, he didn’t mind it in the least. He doted on the dragonling constantly, and the heat of her tiny breath on his back warmed not only his body but also his soul. He found the corner of his mouth curling into a grin as he floated along in the weightlessness of space.

… pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat …

When he reached the halfway point etched clearly in the firesteel, he flared his wings wide, disturbing Tarly from her cozy perch. His wings windmilled their pitiful magical veins through the ambient ether, straining to slow his motion to a halt. His long talons wrapped around the girthy chain links, and he paused to perform their daily ritual: a brief respite to enjoy the stars.

From this vantage point, their home on the floating rock behind was hidden from view, nothing more than a pinprick of shadow against the starry cloud of the Brightling galaxy. To their forefront, the unnamed mining town was nestled in the shadowy underside of the great asteroid, Narmoroth. The townsfolk had yet to stir, and the entrances to the countless dragon warrens drilled deep into the rock were dark and cold.

Firen’s lungs panted, sucking in great breaths of ether that slowly refilled his magic reserves. He then turned his view to the center of the star system, where the binary stars of Karn and Kax orbited each other lazily. Karn was the bigger of the two, but Kax was hotter, burning a citrine yellow that outshone Karn’s dull ochre.

Even from their distant location in the outermost belt, the sight was bright enough that membranes flicked protectively over his eyes. If he squinted hard enough, he could barely make out the curling arc of asteroids that made up MidBelt, where most dragonfolk resided. Beyond that, and utterly invisible at this distance, lay InBelt, where only the dragon hive monarchy and the supremely wealthy were allowed to step foot. At the behest of InBelt’s powermongers, every measurement of time in the system marched to the inner belt’s cadence, from belt days to belt years.

Firen grunted, pulling a jaded frown.

Do InBelters even know dragons like us exist? Eking out a living in the outer reaches?

Tarly yawned and stretched out her right forelimb in concert with her left hind leg.

“Are we there yet?” she asked.

Firen snorted, expelling a chuff of amber fire from his snout. Tarly said that line every day, on cue and without fail. Firen had no idea why he still snorted at it. It had become as much a part of their morning ritual as anything else, he supposed. Regardless, it didn’t merit a response, and they sat in companionable silence as Firen’s ether reserves ticked upward.

“Where’s that sweeper we saw yesterday?” asked Tarly.

“It’s long gone by now,” said Firen, pointing with a wing to the gigantic blue sphere far to their right. Its horizon appeared perfectly circular at this distance, but Firen had been caught in a sweeper’s gravity once, and he remembered how the jagged ground could be seen bunching up into vast mountain ranges when up close.

Tarly shuddered, then said in a small voice, “Is it true a sweeper killed an empress once?”

“That’s what the stories say. But only because she was such an arrogant fool. No one dances with a sweeper and lives to tell the tale. No one.”

Firen shook his head as he stared at the imperceptibly receding planet. “Many a greedy dragon has been lured to their death by their oceans of liquid ice. First, their gravity sucks you in. Then they set you on fire. If you’re still alive after that, they crush you with their atmosphere.”

“Is that why the space between belts is so empty?”

“Why do you think they’re called sweepers?”

Tarly shuddered, prompting Firen to tilt back his head and nuzzle her affectionately. “You don’t have to worry, Tar. The paths of every sweeper are well-mapped, and as long as you stay well out of their way, they can’t hurt you.” His gaze lingered on the planet for a beat longer before turning to face the long chain stretching into Narmoroth’s shadow. “Time to go.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Tarly tightened her grip on his scales as he lurched onward, building his floating momentum swiftly with powerful flicks from his talons.

… pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat …

They neared where the black curtain of Narmoroth’s shadow sliced diagonally across their path, and a sudden gust of ether wind rocked the chain, tossing Firen adrift.

“DAD!”

“Hang on!”

His wings beat furiously as his hind legs reached for the absent links. Within a skipped heartbeat, the bucking chain bobbed within range and his talons desperately clasped onto it.

The ether currents buffeted them there for several minutes as they waited with clenched claws. Finally, when the wild gusts abated, Firen tentatively resumed their journey.

“That was a close one, Dad.”

Firen exhaled forcefully, hoping it would slow his rampaging pulse. “I know, I know. If only my heartfire was awakened. Then I could fly us to town.”

But my heartfire is as dead as ice.

Firen’s claws steadily drew them along the chain. After the shock of being thrown adrift, he decided to forgo floating altogether until they reached Narmoroth’s face.

“Tell me that story again, Dad. About the time you saw a dragon fly.”

He sighed. “There’s not much to tell. He was one of the hive officers from MidBelt. I saw him arrive at the docks. Next thing I know, he flapped his wings and took off into the sky without a care in the world. He veered and dove and spun. It was like watching a drunk comet in dragon form! His wings were so full of magic, I could see the veins pulsing every time they beat against the ether.

“Every time I think back on that day, Tar, I’m convinced his wings could feel the ether, as if it was a true substance.” Firen glanced at his own wings, sculling endlessly against the sky to little effect. “Not like these pitiful things.”

“Stars above,” said Tarly in wonder. “One day, Dad. One day I want to do that.”

“You and me both, Tar.”

Within a quarter hour, they’d reached the chain’s anchor—a hulking, six-fingered metal claw that splayed twenty wings across and sank deep into Narmoroth’s side. Firen gave the anchor a cursory inspection as he leaped over it, gliding to the rocky base before he reoriented himself and took off toward town.

They arrived on the claw-scratched path that was the main thoroughfare as the town stirred to life. Steel street lamps, filled with dragoncoal, flickered to flame. Merchants opened windows to their wares and expelled great breaths of ether against their shop floors, creating clouds of dust that blossomed into the starry sky. Several dragon mechs soared by overhead with their limbs tucked in and jets of ignited ether fountaining from their metal wings.

One mech, in particular, towed a train of minecarts behind it, with each cart packed with a dragonling child on their way to school. Other residents emptied from their dwellings to join them on the main thoroughfare. Each of them fluttered raised wings to keep their body pressed downward and give their claws purchase during their floating gait.

A jaw-watering scent filled the ether, commandeering Firen’s jaunt aside before the booth of a snack vendor. The aproned dragon inside was standing on his hind legs, his long tail wound around a rock to anchor his form. The burly male was coating kebab sticks of meat with oil and spices before cooking them carefully and methodically with his dragonfire breath. Once he spotted Firen, he hurriedly finished up and turned to them.

“Mornin’ F’ren. In fer a bite?”

Firen nodded agreeably. “Mornin,’ Lanzak. Blazes, that smells good! How fresh is the rockling meat this morning?”

“Got the shipment right off the dock an hour ago. Straight from the grazing pastures on Tikes, no less.”

Firen rubbed his front claws together enthusiastically. “Sounds good. Five, please.”

The amiable cook traded the snacks for a handful of scales—bright, copper coins that winked in the starlight. Firen passed two sticks up to Tarly, who was impatiently kneading the scales on his back.

The simple meal vanished so surprisingly fast that Firen found himself doubting their destination, looking around with a crumpled brow to check whether any meat had somehow snuck off the sticks.

Moments later, they were back on the main path, arriving at the school’s warren all too soon for Tarly’s liking. But she nuzzled Firen’s neck all the same, then drifted down to clasp onto the dirty ground and line up at the warren’s entrance.

One of the female teachers, Shessar, greeted the students and marked attendance as they arrived. When she saw Firen, she flashed him an impressively wide smile, especially for this hour of the day, then gleefully sauntered over to him on all fours with her wings fluttering.

As a female entering her mating years, her body mass was more than twice that of Firen’s, and an involuntary gulp swept down his throat before he could stop it.

How old was she again? Thirty?

“Hello, Firen,” she purred, moving her gaze along the arch of his back with a look of unmistakable longing. “Your Tarly is doing extremely well in her calculations class lately, although her spelling leaves much to be desired. As her personal dragonfire tutor, I’ll say her control in that area is exemplary. I wondered if we could discuss her advancements in detail. Perhaps in a more private venue?”

Firen gave her a weak smile, fluttering his wings to force his hind legs to the rocky ground.

“That’s nice to hear, Shessar. Unfortunately, I’m very busy with the work at the mine lately—”

“I have tickets to tonight’s mech battle,” she blurted.

Firen froze, his jaws still open.

Despite his humble station, he bore an impressive frame. For a male, that is. His scales were a dull but healthy brown, with solid tips and unbroken, interlocking edges. His black talons gleamed in the starlight that similarly graced his deep green eyes. His vibrant wings with their clawed thumbs were remarkably large for his relatively young age of thirty-five belt years. But most striking of all were his muscled shoulders, long days in the mine having sculpted them to eye-popping definition.

It was at this precise moment those shoulder muscles decided to twitch, sending an echo of exuded strength shuddering across his chest.

Shessar’s eyes widened, wholly entranced by the accidental display, and Firen used the distraction to glance toward her tail, taking in her imposing length.

He was under no illusions. Even with the strength he’d built up over several years in the ice mine, she could squash him like a roach if she wanted to.

Or bite his head clean off. Some enraged females had been known to do so, especially with the typical mood swings that accompanied the beginning of their mating years. Their town was so remote they didn’t have their own hive enforcer, and she might even get away with it.

Careful now.

“Shessar, I’m flattered, I truly am. But I need more time. Keera and I mated for life, and it’s hardly been a turn of the inner belt since the scale rot took her life.”

“I see,” she said, dipping her face to the ground. “Of course, of course, I wasn’t thinking.” Then she raised her head with eyes refilling with hope far too soon. “You take all the time you need, Firen. I’ll be right here waiting when you’re ready.”

She reached a clawed foot over and placed it meaningfully on his forelimb.

Firen grimaced.

“Ahem,” said Tarly, coughing into her tiny fist as she waited impatiently at the warren’s entrance. The momentary distraction caused Shessar to peer back and release her hold.

Stars bless you, child.

“Well, got to go,” said Firen hurriedly. “If I’m late, they’ll dock my pay.”

Firen felt the teacher’s piercing gaze on his back as he scampered away, but he missed the part where she narrowed her eyes and licked her lips.

Halfway to the mine, the gravity of the interaction belatedly struck him.

He sighed, and his magnificent flared wings fell limp to his side.

I’ll have to do something about that one.